When Daughter and I were clearing out her old bedroom to convert it into my new office, she became a disposing agent for all the memorabilia stored there. I have a hands-off policy regarding other people’s collectibles and Husband says that’s why our basement looks like a holding cell for ebay.
A year out of college and six months out of our house, the door to Son’s room across the hall is kept shut because he keeps promising to do something about all his sports trophies and now obsolete electronics. The last time I ventured in there was to check for leaks during a rainstorm and I noticed a shadow in the corner over by the cobwebs. I think it was Miss Havisham. She had a 1995 MVP award in her lap and I booked it out of there before she could make me eat her moldy wedding cake.
During the Great Clean-Out, Daughter held up a cap and gown, neatly folded on a shelf.
DTR: You want this?
OSV: Do I want it? It’s yours.
DTR: No, it’s Brother’s. Mine was red.
I inspected it and realized it was Son’s from his recent college graduation and he had handed it off to me afterward. I must have put it on a shelf in my future office.
OSV: Pitch it. If it doesn’t say Armani somewhere inside, he’s done with it.
Of my two children, Son has always been the one devoted to stylin’. When he went to college way out of state, he still came back for haircuts in Brooklyn to the one guy who did it right. Who wouldn’t make appointments, even for a customer driving five hours to see him. Son never complained. It was a pilgrimage.
A few years ago, Son and Daughter left on separate trips out of the country; Son to the Dominican Republic and Daughter to Eastern Europe. At the time, Son asked to borrow one of our suitcases and I watched him select a mid-sized one from our collection.
OSV: You want that for a four-day trip?
SON: It’ll be okay. I can bring a carry-on too.
OSV: You’re packing more for a long weekend in the Dominican than your sister is for two weeks in four countries.
SON: She’s packing? I figured she’d just buy a T-shirt at the first airport and wear that the whole time.
I recalled that conversation for Daughter as she was pitching his cap and gown. She laughed.
DTR: He’s right, that’s pretty much what I did.
She looked around and with her hands on her hips and a furrowed brow she turned to face me.
DTR: You know, I don’t see my cap and gown around here. I gave them to you after my graduation, too. Did you go ahead and throw them out?
I pushed some things aside on the top shelf and pulled down a neatly folded red gown with the cap protected inside and handed it to her. She looked down at the tidy pile in her arms and smiled. Then she hugged me fiercely and whispered, “Thank you, Mom.”
Then she threw it out.
Daughter’s Featured Fotos juxtapose the Costa Rican Rainforest with the Israeli Desert
butterfl-eye
in the cave
flower at the equator
shadows in the negev